


like late night chocolate

by antijosh



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Food as a Metaphor for Love, High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-05 08:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13383990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antijosh/pseuds/antijosh
Summary: Jihoon likes two things: eating and Woojin.or, a love story told entirely through food.





	like late night chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> hi welcome to my first fic of my 2018, this was only supposed to be 2k but i got a little carried away
> 
> i think the inspiration for this was jihoon eating chicken on amigo tv?? but also just how much he likes to eat in general. as usual, special thanks to jackie for wholeheartedly endorsing this fic and giving it a beta read, i would quite literally be 1-1=0 nothing without you.
> 
> you may want to grab a snack before you read this, and i hope you enjoy~

“You’re not eating?” A voice from the other end of the lunch table surprises Jihoon enough that he jolts, head snapping up to look for the source. He sees four boys looking at him expectantly; the one closest to him looks familiar, from his morning classes. What was his name, Seokjin maybe? “I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m in your class. I’m Woojin. You’re Jihoon, right?” Ah, not Seokjin but Woojin.

“Yeah, I remember you.” Jihoon gives the boy a small smile, head turning back to his phone resting in his lap as he tries to fend off dying in his game for just a few moments longer (and avoid thinking about how crappy his first day at a new school has been).

“Seriously, you’re not eating anything?” Woojin repeats, more insistant than the last time. When Jihoon looks up again, one of the other boys has a sympathetic look on his face. Woojin just looks confused. 

Jihoon purses his lips, taking a deep inhale through his nose. “I don’t have any money. My lunch account isn’t set up yet,” he answers truthfully. At this point, he just wants them to leave him and his grumbling stomach in peace.

“Are you hungry?” What kind of question is that?

Jihoon bites his tongue and just shrugs. “I’m fine.”

“You sure you don’t want some of ours? My mom always packs way too much food,” the smallest kid of the group says, cocking his head expectantly. “And Woojin doesn’t know how to portion his food when he cooks, so there’s too much kimchi fried rice too.”

“Hey!” Woojin pouts a bit. Jihoon thinks he hears Woojin go on to mumble something like _all our spoons are really big okay_ and he has to stifle a laugh with his sleeve. 

He gives their side of the table a once over—the kid doesn’t seem to be kidding, there really is a shit ton of food spread out. “You don’t mind?” Jihoon would feel worse about accepting the blind kindness of strangers, but it’s his first day and he’s so damn hungry. 

“No, go for it. You look like you’re dying,” the smallest one teases, and Jihoon only hesitates a moment before he picks up his bag and slides down to their end of the table. 

“Thank you,” he says shyly, as Woojin starts to dish out some kimchi fried rice into a smaller bowl, pushing it along with some chopsticks over to Jihoon. 

They make small talk, asking Jihoon where he used to go to school and why he moved. Conversation is easy with five people, and soon enough the focus shifts from Jihoon’s background to Daehwi’s (the little one) crush and a discussion of whether or not Youngmin (the oldest of the group) can dance. 

No matter how much he eats, Jihoon’s bowl never empties, being steadily refilled by Woojin’s chopsticks. It’s too awkward for him to turn it down, and the other boy seems to enjoy feeding him if the smile on his face every time he pushes the bowl back in Jihoon’s direction is anything to go by. Even if it wasn’t awkward, Jihoon doesn’t think he could bring himself to turn down food anyway. It’s still hot despite how long they’ve been sitting there, and the rice practically melts on his tongue. Looking over at his newfound friends, Jihoon thinks it tastes like new beginnings. 

—

It only takes a week at his new school for Jihoon to make an enemy.

Enemy is a strong word, but Jihoon can’t help that the resident pretty boy of the senior class feels threatened by his presence. It’s not like he’s _trying_ to get girls to whisper about him in the hallways, it just happens. He’s cute and a transfer student—new blood. It was always inevitable.

Still, he doesn’t like the way that kid and his friends are looking at him on the way to the cafeteria, so he buys his lunch quickly and tries to disappear. It takes a bit of trial and error—he still doesn’t know his way around yet—but Jihoon thinks he’s finally finds some peace behind the stage, the thick maroon velvet curtain separating him from the judging eyes of his peers. 

It’s a bit awkward. He has to sit cross legged on the wood floor, hunching to reach the tray set in front of him, but he makes it work. The cafeteria served jjajangmyun today, and you can never go wrong with jjajangmyun. It’s not quite as good as the place Jihoon gets delivered to his house (their sauce is unparalleled), but it’s good nonetheless.

He only gets in a few mouthfuls before he hears feet shuffling on wood, a stumble, and a muffled curse.

“Shit, Jihoon how can you even see anything back here?”

Jihoon recognizes the voice immediately. His classmate and new friend never shuts his mouth, even during lessons. It’s actually one of Jihoon’s favorite things about Woojin, after his snaggletooth and the curve of his soft cheeks. Jihoon definitely does not have a mental list of his favorite things about his cute classmate, not at all.

“Did you follow me?” Jihoon asks, ignoring Woojin’s question as the other boy fumbles into view, dropping to sit beside Jihoon with a huff.

“No, I went looking. You weren’t easy to find, by the way.”

“That was kind of the point,” Jihoon replies, shoveling another clump of noodles into his mouth.

“Do you want me to go?” Jihoon isn’t expecting Woojin to ask, and it honestly flusters him a bit.

“No, you can stay if you want,” he answers, and he’s glad that the low light hides his expression from Woojin’s curious eyes.

“Cool, cause I just got here and I don’t feel like leaving. Why are you hiding anyway?”

Jihoon explains as Woojin starts to unpack his lunch: more kimchi fried rice, this time with mandu and a side of fruit. Jihoon’s mouth waters, so he turns his attention back to his own food.

“Moonbok and his friends aren’t anyone you should worry about,” Woojin tells him, popping pieces of cantaloupe like they’re candy. “Just keep sitting with us at lunch, you’ll be fine.”

“Yes, because Daehwi can do such a wonderful job of protecting me,” Jihoon replies dryly, eliciting a beautiful cackle from Woojin.

“Daehwi has an entire army of people who would kill a man if he asked them to, don’t underestimate his influence. Besides, you have me and Youngmin,” Woojin emphasizes this by patting his own chest, “so you’re fine.”

“If you say so,” Jihoon laughs. He checks his phone for the time; it’s too late to return to the cafeteria now. “I _guess_ I could sit with you guys tomorrow.”

“I knew I could convince you.” Jihoon doesn’t need much light to know that Woojin is smiling. They finish eating quickly, because it’s almost time for their next class. Jihoon lets Woojin lead him down the winding halls and back to their classroom, and if he spends too much time looking at how nicely Woojin’s shoulders fill out his uniform jacket, then at least there’s no one around to notice

—

Grape Gatorade tastes sour on Jihoon’s tongue but he swallows it down anyway, desperate to relieve the dry ache after hours of practice.

“Did I go too hard on you?” Jihoon nearly spills his Gatorade; he hadn’t noticed Woojin coming up beside him until Woojin’s hand was resting on Jihoon’s shoulder. Jihoon shrinks away--the contact is too much, too hot for the already sweltering practice room.

“I’m used to it,” he replies, smiling so Woojin knows it’s not him. “Thanks for teaching me everything. I really liked being on the dance team at my old school, so I appreciate you helping me out.”

“It’s no problem.” Woojin shrugs, adjusting the towel hanging around his neck. “We can always use new members. I think Seongwoo hyung was about ready to cry when you said you wanted to join.”

Jihoon just nods, taking another two gulps of Gatorade and letting it sit in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. Woojin snorts, and Jihoon looks up with wide eyes.

“What?” he asks now that his mouth is empty.

“You looked like a chipmunk,” Woojin replies easily, not even bothering to hide his smile. Jihoon uses the back of his hand to punch Woojin’s shoulder, which only seems to make Woojin smile harder. “Aw, don’t worry Jihoon, you were a cute chipmunk.”

At least Jihoon can pretend that the flush of his face and ears is due to the heat of the room and not Woojin’s words, even if he doesn’t believe it himself. 

—

It’s a week later, and Jihoon’s stomach growls angrily as he fights back a sigh. It’s only been four hours since lunch, but he’s already craving a snack that’s still a very long walk away. He could stop on his way home and get something, but he’s already spent most of his $20 food allowance for the week, and it’s only Wednesday. 

He practically bolts out the door as soon as the bell dismisses them, desperate to get home to eat, but a loud shout of his name stops him. When he turns, he sees Woojin jogging up to him with a goofy grin on his face. 

"Hey." Jihoon's not unhappy to see Woojin, but he's really fucking hungry—the kind of hunger that you'd ditch your friends to satisfy. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his uniform, giving Woojin a closed-mouth smile. 

Woojin finally catches up, falling into a walk beside Jihoon as they head for the gates. He cocks his head upon seeing Jihoon's expression. "Something up?"

Jihoon presses his lips together, a bit embarrassed. "Not really, I'm just really hungry," he laughs awkwardly, and Woojin immediately stops. Jihoon watches in confusion as Woojin swings his backpack off, letting it hit the ground with a thud before he's leaning over it and rummaging around inside, clearly looking for something. "What are you—“ Jihoon starts to ask, but he stops short when Woojin finally produces a slightly crumpled bag of honey butter chips, a triumphant smile on his face.

"For you," he says, before extending the bag to Jihoon with a dramatic flourish.

"You don't mind?" Jihoon asks, and Woojin shakes his head vehemently.

"Really, you should have them if you're hungry," he replies, and Jihoon accepts the bag hesitantly.

"I'll share," he says, and Woojin laughs.

"You don't have to."

"But I want to." The smile that Woojin gives him for that is worth the four hours of hunger it took to get there.

—

It's an easy pattern for them to fall into. They live closer than either of them expected, only a few streets apart, so they make a habit of walking home together. Soon enough it becomes natural for Woojin to invite Jihoon over, or for Jihoon to do the same. Usually, they'll go to whoever's house happens to have better food that day. On this day, it's Jihoon's, because he'd finally caved and bought volcano ramyun and he'll be damned if he has to murder his taste buds on his own.

Even as it cooks, the smell of the spice starts to sting at their nostrils, and Woojin wrinkles his nose.

"That can't possibly taste good," he says, eyeing the pot on the stove with distaste.

"Weren't you the one saying it can't _possibly_ be that bad?" Jihoon asks, swallowing as he stirs in an effort to keep more tears from forming in his already watering eyes.

"I don't think it'll be as spicy as everyone says but I also don't think it'll taste good, the two are not mutually exclusive," Woojin defends, and Jihoon just rolls his eyes.

Jihoon tries it first, Woojin only a mouthful behind. They sit on the floor, because Jihoon’s mom left her work papers all over the table and neither one of them feels like cleaning—plus, the floor is cool and offers some small form of relief from the fire in their mouths.

“You good?” Jihoon asks somewhere between the fifth and sixth bite, after Woojin sets his bowl down and begins to rub at the back of his neck.

"I feel fine," Woojin bluffs, but there's a hoarseness to his voice that wasn't there before and he can't stop blinking, which is funny enough that Jihoon can almost forget about the heat burning in his own mouth.

"Really?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "So you won't mind if I use all these snacks to save my own mouth from death?" He slowly starts to rake all the water, jellies, and bread that he set out in preparation towards him, but Woojin's hand snaps out to stop him.

"God, no," he rasps, "Jihoonie this is awful, why did you do this to me?"

Jihoon doesn’t point out that Woojin volunteered his mouth to prove a point, just pushes some of the snacks back in Woojin’s direction. It takes a lot of jelly cups until Jihoon no longer feels like his entire digestive tract is about to burst into flames, and Woojin seems to be in the same boat because there’s no talking, only eating and dabbing at their watering eyes and running noses. 

However, there’s still ramyun in the pot and Jihoon would rather die a fiery death than waste food. Woojin calls him a dumbass but tells Jihoon to make another bowl for him too, so Jihoon supposes they’re both dumbasses. It hurts less the second time, and even with the two of them doubled over on Jihoon’s floor, taking gasps of cool air that somehow only make the pain worse, Jihoon still finds Woojin cute. 

—

The year passes more quickly than either of them could ever imagine. Soon enough, finals are over and it’s the afternoon before they’re set to graduate. Jihoon doesn’t hesitate to take Woojin up on the invitation of frozen yogurt (especially when Woojin says he’ll pay).

“You’re a heathen, Park Woojin.” Jihoon uses his spoon to swat Woojin’s hand away from his carefully curated froyo, making Woojin pout. 

“I just want to taste it,” Woojin whines, reaching his spoon out again. 

Jihoon forms a protective cage around his froyo with his hands, frowning. “It’s not my fault you pile on flavors and toppings with no regard for your taste buds.”

Woojin slumps back into his plastic chair with a huff, digging his spoon into his froyo and pulling out a spoonful of cake batter yogurt with sour gummies piled on top. Jihoon wrinkles his nose, taking a mouthful of his strawberry shortcake yogurt and savoring the flavor. His yogurt matches the pink and white retro decor of the yogurt shop, which Jihoon finds extremely satisfying. Pink has always been his favorite color.

“You nervous for tomorrow?” Woojin asks, and Jihoon snorts.

“What’s there to be nervous about? All we have to do is sit for an hour or so, walk across a stage, shake some hands and take a piece of paper without making a fool of ourselves. I think even you can handle that.” Woojin scowls, picking a sour gummy worm from the top of his yogurt and launching it at Jihoon. It hits Jihoon on the cheek, and Woojin cackles. 

“Just promise me we’ll still hang out over the summer, asshole. You’re not allowed to just graduate and forget the person that got you through your senior year,” Woojin says, leaning back in his seat.

“That’s high praise for yourself,” Jihoon scoffs, but he can’t say it’s a lie. “And don’t worry, _asshole_ , I couldn’t forget about your loud ass even if I tried.”

Woojin smirks proudly, mouth too full of froyo to form a reply. Something in the way Woojin’s eyes fix on Jihoon after that makes Jihoon’s ears feel hot, and no amount of froyo can cool them down.

—

Air conditioning feels like heaven on earth in the middle of sticky summer heat, and Jihoon is tempted to lay his face on the cool metal table in front of him. Luckily, Woojin talks before Jihoon gets the chance to embarrass himself.

“You know, when you asked if I wanted to go get ramyun at eleven o’clock at night I wasn’t sure what to expect.” Woojin’s teasing like always, a drop of red broth clinging to the corner of his lip even as he gives a closed mouth smile.

Jihoon swallows down the urge to reach across and wipe it away, settling for a casual eye roll and, “get your head out of the gutter, Park Woojin.”

It’s too late for proper conversation, so they just eat. Somehow, the soft sounds of cars going by manages to make Woojin’s noisy slurping less obnoxious, and Jihoon can feel his muscles start to relax as his bowl grows closer and closer to empty. The noodles are just hot enough to be pleasant but not enough to burn his tongue, and though he tries his best to savor them he’s looking down at an empty bowl all too soon. 

Woojin is the first to break their silence. “I’ll miss not seeing you every day in the fall,” he says, setting his chopsticks down with a clatter. 

Jihoon clears his throat. “Me too.” It’s true--he’ll miss Woojin more than he wants to admit to anyone (even to himself). They’ve known each other for less than a year, but he knows that not having Woojin by his side every day will leave a feeling of emptiness. 

“You’re going to school only twenty minutes away though,” Woojin shrugs, offering a comforting smile. “I’ll make sure to see you even if you get sick of me.”

Jihoon snorts. “If I was capable of getting sick of you, don’t you think I would be by now?”

Woojin doesn’t seem to know how to answer that, laughing awkwardly instead. A soft spoken employee saves the both of them from continuing that conversation, carefully interrupting to tell them the shop would be closing soon. Woojin thanks her, and when they leave he holds the door open for Jihoon. It’s a small gesture, but it makes Jihoon’s chest feel full.

“I’ll walk you home,” Woojin offers, and Jihoon accepts wordlessly. They fall in beside each other, an easy silence between them that neither feels the need to break. For all Woojin talks, he understands that sometimes things are better left unsaid, which Jihoon appreciates more than he can say. It’s too late now to be thinking of heavy things like college and growing up, so he’s happy to look up at the orange glow of the streetlights and feel Woojin’s warm presence beside him. 

It’s a short walk, and soon enough they’re taking the steps up to Jihoon’s apartment, pausing in front of the door. Jihoon turns to Woojin, to say goodbye, but something stops him from opening his mouth. Woojin’s expression is soft, eyes and mouth relaxed. His skin glows, thanks to the humid summer air they’ve been walking in, and for a moment Jihoon thinks he’s never seen anything quite so pretty. 

Jihoon wants to curse his height, because he’s currently at exactly eye level with Woojin’s lips and it’s too much to ask of him right now (past midnight with warmth spreading from his stomach to his fingertips) for him to look up to Woojin’s eyes, or even look anywhere else. He knows Woojin can tell he’s staring, because he can hear the other take a staggered breath, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Woojin’s mouth stays just barely open, and Jihoon takes one look up at Woojin’s dark eyes full of wonder before he just thinks _fuck it_ and leans up and into his toes, crossing the barely-there distance between them and stealing a kiss. Woojin is reactive but pliant, hands coming to brush Jihoon’s waist as he tilts his head to the side so their noses don’t collide. Jihoon can taste a hint of salt from the ramen on Woojin’s lips, and it’s not at all unpleasant. 

They come apart naturally, and Jihoon can hear Woojin take another deep breath. There’s nothing for him to say, no excuse for him to make, so Jihoon just says, “Good night, Woojin.”

Woojin makes a sort of soft, strangled noise at the back of his throat, hands dropping to his sides as he replies, “good night.”

Woojin’s eyes don’t leave Jihoon the entire time Jihoon unlocks his door, staring (almost dumbfounded) as Jihoon slips into his apartment, giving Woojin a small smile. 

Jihoon doesn’t want to think about what he just did. It’s late enough to sleep, but something tells him he won’t be able to, so he heads for the kitchen. He tries his best to move silently, rummaging through cabinets and drawers until he finds the stash of caramel filled chocolate bars his mother hides away for hard days. 

The sweetness hits his tongue like a punch, and he lets the chocolate melt in his mouth before swallowing. It’s enough to keep his mind off the kiss, to rid his mouth of the salty taste of ramen and Woojin’s lips. 

He makes it through a whole bar and has to stop himself from opening a second one, doing his best to hide the wrapper beneath a paper towel in the trash so his mother won’t notice his transgression. A quick face wash does wonders to make him feel less like he’s made a big mistake, as does some mint toothpaste and strawberry flavored lip balm. Jihoon finally collapses into bed well past one in the morning, and thankfully he’s too exhausted to overthink things and soon drifts off to sleep.

—

Jihoon expects to wake up the next morning to an empty house, to go downstairs and make himself breakfast as he tries to use twitter to avoid thinking about the night before. He expects a quiet morning where he can be full of teenage angst in peace.

This is not what he gets.

He wakes to the sound of his doorbell ringing, over and over until it starts to sound like it could maybe be a morning alarm. By the time he's awake enough to comprehend that someone really is at the door, he's cursing at himself because it's past noon and _holy shit did he really just sleep for ten hours_?

Getting to the door while still half asleep is a task, but somehow Jihoon manages to only trip over his sweatpants once (he's actually pretty sure they're Woojin's that got left at his place, which would explain why they're too long). He opens the door hurriedly, knowing full well he has bedhead and a flushed face, expecting to see a delivery man with something his mom ordered off the internet.

Instead, he gets Woojin.

"I brought chicken," Woojin says in lieu of a greeting, holding up the bag of takeout from one of their favorite restaurants while Jihoon just gapes at him.

Shit.

It takes a few more seconds of Jihoon staring dumbly and Woojin waiting patiently on his doorstep until Jihoon collects himself enough to invite Woojin in.

"I'll be right back," he promises before sprinting upstairs. He and Woojin don't really have shame or secrets between them, but last night's events invite a conversation today, and it's not one Jihoon wants to have while sporting Woojin's sweats, bedhead, and morning breath. It really does only take him a few minutes to throw on some stretched out jeans and run his fingers through his hair till it looks decent, foregoing brushing his teeth in favor of a very thorough rinse with mouthwash. Desperate times.

Jihoon wants to swoon as he makes his way back out to the kitchen, because the scent of fried chicken has started to permeate the entire apartment. Park Woojin is a man that knows his way to Jihoon's heart, because he's arranged the food neatly on the table and is waiting expectantly.

"Hey," Jihoon says awkwardly, lingering at the doorway. It's his house, so he doesn't really know why he's waiting for Woojin's approval, but he gets it anyway.

"Come and eat before it gets cold, you took a while to let me in," Woojin grins, and with that he finally picks up a wing and takes a huge chunk out of it.

"Sorry," Jihoon apologizes quickly, taking a seat across from Woojin and taking a bite from the extremely full plate Woojin made for him. Woojin had nothing to worry about--the chicken is still hot, and it tastes just like Jihoon remembers. He lets his eyes flutter shut as he chews, taking a moment just to bask in how good it is. He can hear Woojin snicker, and he cracks an eye open to see what it's about.

"You don't love anything as much as you love chicken, do you?" Woojin jokes, barely managing to swallow his food before speaking.

 _You_ , Jihoon wants to say, but he doesn't. He lets the fact that he's still chewing buy him some time before offering an awkward smile in response, along with a, "guess not."

As is typical for them, they fall into a casual silence, the only noise in the entire apartment coming from the air conditioning and Jihoon’s shifting to find a more comfortable position in his chair and the crinkle of paper napkins under Woojin’s fingertips. Woojin’s set up a trash plate in the middle for them to put their picked over bones on, and Jihoon frowns when he sees Woojin start to fill it with not quite bare bones.

"Hey, are you throwing that away? You can still eat that," Jihoon scolds, pointing at the cartilage Woojin's left clinging to the bone.

“Seriously?” Woojin cocks an eyebrow, and Jihoon frowns.

“If you’re not going to eat it then I will,” he says, easily reaching across the table to snatch the offending piece off Woojin’s plate.

“You’d eat that even though I slobbered all over it?” Woojin jokes before his faces softens into something much less readable to Jihoon. “Then again, I guess you did kiss me last night so it probably shouldn’t bother you anyway.”

“Right,” Jihoon says, clearing his throat awkwardly, “about that.” _We can forget about it_ , he wants to say. _It doesn’t have to mean anything, I know it’s not like that between us_. He chokes on the words though, because they’re so not true it hurts. He can’t forget about it because he doesn’t regret it, he wants to do the same thing over and over every night until Woojin gets tired of him (because Jihoon knows he’ll never get tired of Woojin). 

“We don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to,” Woojin offers, and of all the sweet things he’s ever done for Jihoon that’s the sweetest of them all. Jihoon hates himself when he shakes his head.

“But we should,” he replies. Woojin nods, swallowing and wiping his hands clean first on a napkin and then on his jeans. 

“Then let me go first,” he says, and even when Jihoon tries to protest Woojin just talks over him. “You kissed me first so I get to talk first, it’s only fair.” 

Jihoon can’t really argue with that, nor does he want to, so he sits back in his chair with a nod and waits. It takes Woojin a moment to collect himself, if his nervous fingers tapping an unsteady beat on the table are anything to go by. He purses his lips, eyes on the other side of the room until he finally snaps them back to meet Jihoon’s. 

“So you kissed me.” Woojin’s off to a really agood start.

“I did,” Jihoon nods, pressing his lips together to avoid laughing. 

“I need to know if you meant it.” That surprises Jihoon more than anything else. He swallows, brows scrunching together with a frown as he prepares to answer, but Woojin’s not done talking (Jihoon’s not surprised--when is Woojin ever done talking).

“I need to know if you meant it because when I kissed you back I meant it. And I know that I’m your generally easy going best friend that you do everything with but if you kissed me because you want a summer fling or some shit like that then I need you to know that I can’t do that. I can’t be that for you.” Woojin takes a shaky breath, lacing his fingers together only to pry them apart again as averts his gaze to stare down at the table. Jihoon takes the opportunity.

“I meant it,” he says, careful to keep his voice steady though it threatens to waver. Woojin’s no good at this but neither is Jihoon, so Jihoon thinks it’s pretty fitting for them to be having this conversation. “When I kissed you, I meant it. I don’t want a summer fling, I want you.”

Woojin’s head raises so fast that Jihoon’s a little worried about the safety of his neck, but any rational thoughts leave his head as soon as he sees Woojin’s hesitant smile. “Really?”

“Promise,” Jihoon replies, and this time he doesn’t bother to hide his own smile.

Woojin relaxes, nervousness fading into the cool Busan guy aura he takes on whenever he doesn’t want to embarass himself. “Cool, cause I’ve liked you since I saw you walk into our classroom the first day of senior year and that would have really sucked.”

Jihoon snorts. “Me too. Guess we were both too stupid to do anything about it.”

“Sounds like we have a lot of lost time we need to make up for.” Woojin leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and hitting Jihoon with a classic snaggletoothed smirk. 

Jihoon gives him one in return, picking another piece of uneaten chicken off his plate and taking a bite. “We could do some more kissing if you want.” He does his best to be nonchalant, and it works just like he wants it too—Woojin’s ears flush a little pink. So much for confident Busan guy Woojin. 

“But first,” Jihoon continues, “chicken.”

Woojin sighs theatrically, slouching back in his chair once again. “I’ll always be second in your heart to chicken, won’t I?”

Jihoon doesn’t bother to correct him, just giving his a closed mouth smile across the table as he chews. Somehow, even though the chicken’s gone kind of cold and he’s eaten all the best pieces already, it tastes even better than it did before. Jihoon doesn’t have to wonder why. 

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/pwjno)


End file.
